Julian Niccolini: Just a happy touchy feely guy when on the grog ….Image via pinterest

Famed Four Seasons co owner Julian Niccolini this morning surrendered himself to the NYPD’s Special Victim’s squadand was charged with sexual abuse after allegations he molested a 28 year old woman. The daughter of a business associate.

According to the nydailynewsthe 62 year old restauranteur’s arrest comes after he was accused of groping the unnamed woman’s breasts, scratching her back and forcibly touching her vaginal area over her underwear during a May 9 party at the iconic restaurant at 99 E. 52nd St.

Come Wednesday evening Niccolini who rose through the ranks as a waiter was awaiting arraignment in Manhattan Supreme Court.

Charged with a single felony count of first-degree sex abuse, if found guilty the man could face up to seven years behind bars.

Yes world take a deep breath ….

The father of two grown daughters, Niccolini and his business partner, Alex von Bidder, bought the Four Seasons in 1995, turning it into one of NYC’s go to dining venues.

Noted luminaries who liked to dine at the venue and whom Niccolini is known to cushy up to include an array of celebs, former U.S Presidents, foreign leaders as well as forging friendships with regulars, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger and Martha Stewart.

According to a report via the nypost, the victim went to cops two days after the May 9th soiree which purportedly had the restauranteur free for all grabbing and the woman in shock.

Offered a law-enforcement source: ‘Her back was pretty scratched up. They were both drinking but not drunk,”

Said an anonymous source: ‘It wasn’t an attack. It was more like he got way too familiar with her body and she was too shocked to say anything at the time.’

Needless to say old men rough touching any women are never attacks unless she is fully aware of it and obviously not too shocked ….

About

I think the idea to start “Scallywag and Vagabond.” (SCV) originates from my myriad background and the many years I have spent in preferred cafes and brasseries extolling the virtues and subtle intricacies of ‘being’ as the Beaujolais ran, the cigarette wafted and the gentleman to my side pontificated while spraying himself with a deftly tied cravat and sun crested idolatry.’

I grew up in Australia where as a young man one was obliged to become a hero of sorts. A master swimmer, fighter of causes, ideals and disheveled denizen of aesthetics, and more often a carefree ‘larrikin’ who would occasionally poke his sun bronzed nose at authority and convention Read More